


Exile

by litbeyondmeasure



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Between Seasons/Series, Bisexual Gwaine (Merlin), Blanket Struggles, Couldn't Remember How Much Lancelot Knew in Canon So Took Some Liberties (Merlin), F/M, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Gwaine Flirts (Merlin), Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Gwaine and Lancelot Protecting Merlin, Gwaine flirting, Gwaine's Hair (Merlin), Gwen Protecting All Three of Them Because They're Useless, It's Getting Cold in Here So Take Off All Your Clothes and Change into Dry Ones, Knife!Merlin, M/M, Mention of Death, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Multi, Protective Gwaine (Merlin), There's One Braincell and Gwen Has It, Three (Four) Idiots and Gwen, Totally Not Written With Taylor Swift's 'exile' On Loop, absolute chaos, sex references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litbeyondmeasure/pseuds/litbeyondmeasure
Summary: Merlin is discovered using magic by Arthur and flees the scene, exiling himself from Camelot and abandoning all that he knows. What he doesn't know, though, is that he is one-third of a whole idiot, and he's about to discover that's not the only thing that he hasn't anticipated.(Written for Day 5 of Camelove 2021: The More the Merrier)
Relationships: Elyan/Percival (Merlin), Gwaine/Gwen/Lancelot/Merlin, Gwaine/Gwen/Lancelot/Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine/Lancelot (Merlin), Gwaine/Lancelot/Merlin, Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Gwaine (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Gwen/Merlin (Merlin), Leon & Bath (Merlin), Merlin/Gwaine, Merlin/Lancelot
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64
Collections: Camelove 2021





	Exile

It had all happened, upon reflection, rather suddenly. One moment Merlin had been gently heating Arthur’s bathwater, the next the prince had been stood naked in front of him, accusing him of sorcery.

Merlin beat back a branch and allowed himself to catch his breath. Arthur hadn’t been wrong; he had been using magic, but it was such an ordeal to obtain hot bathwater without heating it himself. Besides, it wasn’t like he had been committing treason. If anything, he was showing loyalty to Arthur. Of course, Merlin hadn’t given himself a chance to explain all of that, taking the opportunity when Arthur had gone to throw a shirt over his head to do a disappearing act himself. In his head, he would have given Arthur time to process everything – but in his head he hadn’t imagined that his magic would be revealed _heating bathwater_. He had always imagined it as being revealed after saving the prince’s life, which would have been a nifty way to persuade him that magic wasn’t evil.

Merlin hadn’t foreseen the disarray.

He threw himself against the trunk of a tree, covering his face with his hands. When fleeing from Camelot, he hadn’t given any thought as to where he could go. There was always the Ealdor, but that would be the first place Arthur would check and he didn’t want to put his mother in danger like that. Perhaps if he could make it further beyond the border then Arthur couldn’t legally come after him. Perhaps Arthur wouldn’t want to come after him. Perhaps the easier path would be to leave Merlin to his own devices. After all, in the last three years Merlin hadn’t proved himself to be much of a threat.

Lowering his hands, Merlin deeply inhaled and forced his legs to move. It was no use moping about in the forest, especially so close to Camelot. He had to get ahead of the potential patrols searching for him and find shelter for the night. He could have an existential crisis in the morning: that would at least give him one task to do on his first day without seeing Arthur’s face. Or Gwen’s. Or Gwaine’s. Or Lancelot’s—

He could go on like this for the whole night, but lamenting the fact that he’d lost both his job and his destiny in one night wasn’t going to be any help to him. As he trampled deeper into the forest, he turned back for one final look at Camelot and closed his eyes, letting the imprint of the torches burn an image into his mind. Merlin had always preferred the citadel in the moonlight, though he knew that Arthur had always been partial to the dazzling sunlight. Perhaps it was because Merlin, like all of his people, had always been eclipsed by the daylight – much like Merlin had always been eclipsed by Arthur – exiled to the shadows and the safety of a cloak of constellations. Yet in the night, like the citadel, he had come alive in waves, ghostly smiles sketched across his skin as the delicate rays stroked away the tiredness beneath his eyes. There was something gentle about the moon; it seemed to bear the fierce assurance of the sun, but with less of the intensity associated with it. When he opened his eyes again, Camelot appeared as though through mist across a lake, signalling the futility of ever trying to reach it again.

He turned his back on it and walked on.

When it got too dark to see his hand in front of his face, Merlin took a deep breath and lit a fire in the palm of his hand to guide him towards some sort of shelter. He stumbled several times on loose stones, brushing aside the memory of being hit in the back of the head with one by Arthur before Gwaine and Lancelot both hurled their own at the prince in revenge. They had all travelled through the forest so many times, but never taken the opportunity to sit back and indulge themselves in the beauty of it, unless it was as they were all in various stages of drifting off to sleep beneath the stars. Merlin hesitated for a moment, his leg making contact with a cluster of ferns, and the ethereal light cast on his surroundings was extinguished as he heard heavier stumbling.

He saw a flash of torches, then ran.

The ground beneath his feet gradually softened as he jumped over fallen branches and crashed to the forest floor before picking himself up and continuing. He had never been the most graceful of creatures and its endearing quality was certainly _not_ helpful at this precise moment in time. Reaching a stream, Merlin plunged into it and hastily cringed, cursing his lack of subtlety. Bracing himself, he closed his eyes and forced his head below the surface. As he realised that he had no idea how far away the patrol was, he tried to fight against the overwhelming thoughts of how damned cold it was and instead focused on a spell that he’d skimmed over one Wednesday afternoon. Ever so slowly, a bubble formed around his nose and mouth and he slowed the frantic treading of water he had been doing so as not to burst the delicate tether to life.

It burst when he was hauled out of the water by the back of his shirt, his neckerchief becoming tangled in the fingers of his hunter. Choking, Merlin slammed his fist into the wrist holding him, the knife he had been carrying around since Morgana had usurped Uther falling in the water alongside his body. The rocks beneath clawed at his limbs and he gasped for breath, summoning the energy to run again.

‘Bloody hell, Merlin, you didn’t have to stab me!’

Merlin hauled himself across to the other side of the stream, as if three metres between them was going to make all the difference in the world, and crouched on the bank. ‘I had no idea who you were!’ he retorted, cursing when he realised that Lancelot – who seemed to have no visible wound – had picked up his knife.

In the flickering torchlight and next to Lancelot’s sword, it did look rather pathetic.

‘What Lancelot means, Merlin, is that you didn’t have to stab him and _miss_.’ Gwaine grinned at him. ‘You gave him all the terror of being stabbed, but without the wound to justify the fear. You’ve humiliated him.’

‘I think Merlin is the one who should be humiliated,’ Lancelot said, pocketing the knife. ‘He had a clear shot at my wrist and barely got near it.’

Merlin’s jaw dropped. ‘You have armour on, how on earth am I—Wait, this is ridiculous, are you going to arrest me or not?’

‘Merlin, even if we wanted to arrest you, we know full well that you wouldn’t let us if given half the chance,’ Gwaine answered, throwing his torch in the stream. ‘You could fling us all the way back to Camelot and then turn into a bird or something—’

‘Not quite how it works, Gwaine.’ Merlin frowned. ‘And, anyway, how do you know? Lancelot would never breathe a word to a single soul about me.’

Sighing, Lancelot dropped his own torch in the stream and began to wade through. ‘I didn’t tell him. Unbeknownst to most, Gwaine has eyes.’

‘I do,’ concurred the knight in question, stepping over the threshold towards Merlin. ‘Mostly for checking out your fine asses, but also for noticing when one of my friends is a sorcerer. I was just too tactful to say anything.’

Lancelot turned around to stare at him. ‘You? Tactful? After saying we have fine asses? That’ll be the day.’ Merlin stifled a laugh and was glad that the darkness meant his burning face wasn’t exposed. ‘Yeah, you’re not getting off the hook either, save your laughter for the moment,’ warned Lancelot, kicking water at him. ‘Stop squatting like a goblin and dry yourself off. Haven’t you got a spell for that?’

‘Probably,’ Merlin mumbled, suppressing his laughter but remaining thoroughly soaked. ‘So you’re not arresting me? Arthur didn’t send you?’

Gwaine laughed. ‘Arthur is probably still stood behind his screen like a buffoon. He called for us, stammered out your name and something about magic, then said nothing for five minutes. Whether he spoke after we chased after you, I have no idea. Now, where are we heading?’  


Merlin, who had been walking beside them, stopped. Lancelot and Gwaine continued walking, not realising that he had frozen until he spoke. ‘I—I don’t know. I’m a fugitive, in exile, I don’t know where I _can_ go. Why are you both condemning yourselves to the life of an exile?’

Illuminated by moonlight, Lancelot’s eyes threw the warlock a look that Merlin could understand without needing it spoken. He held out his hand, the other covering his mouth as his lower lip trembled. Lancelot swiftly and softly responded, his naked fingers interlocking with Merlin’s as he pulled him into his chest, kissing his temple. They sank down to the ground together as it dawned on Merlin that he had lost the home he had nested in for the most formative years of his life, in the process managing to seal off the home he had grown up in. He clutched desperately at Lancelot’s belt, closing his eyes to focus on the harsh touch of the chainmail and the tender grasp of Lancelot’s lips across his skin, and took a deep breath. In that moment, he was anchored. His home was not a place: it was people. He had thought Arthur was one of them, but he supposed that only time would tell.

‘Why are you, Gwaine?’ he whispered into the night, his eyes still closed.

The shrug of the shoulders was transmitted through Gwaine’s tone. ‘I’ve been an exile before, thought I’d give it another go. Time for a few more drinks, a few more fights—’

‘Shut up and get in here, Gwaine,’ Lancelot interrupted. ‘You don’t have to pretend with us.’

There was a soft shove against Merlin, who had started to shiver from the water, as Gwaine encircled his back, hair falling over Merlin’s shoulder as he reached out to Lancelot. It was difficult to tell where one of them ended and the others began with their separate limbs being nothing but shadows. Sandwiched between the two, Merlin allowed himself the liberty of a few tears before drawing their hands to him and resting his face in the palms.

‘Thank you.’

Using them as crutches, Merlin unsteadily rose and pushed the wet hair off his forehead. Signalling that they should get moving, Lancelot put an arm around Merlin’s waist for support as Gwaine walked behind to check for patrols. They travelled in silence; the unspoken words that had been as present in the embrace as their limbs were more than enough to fill the quiet. As long as Merlin could feel Lancelot beside him and hear Gwaine behind him, then he would be as alright as he could possibly get for the time being. He stumbled several times – not because of a chase, but because his neck was strained to look up at the stars – and each time Lancelot caught him, his heart trembled in his chest. Gwaine kept stepping on the back of his heels and he wanted nothing more than to just hold them both close to him until the storm in his head had passed and he could battle on. They had both saved him and, here they were, saving him again when he had barely returned the favour. It had always been Arthur that needed saving, Arthur that needed protecting – largely because he put himself in the most stupid of situations, but then that was an occupational hazard as prince and regent – and that had all been for nothing. Well, not nothing. Camelot still had an heir and Merlin supposed that was something, but he and Arthur had put Lancelot and Gwaine – not to mention the others – in danger so many times, and Merlin had never once saved them.

He felt the leather of Gwaine’s gloves brush against his fingers. ‘Merlin,’ he softly said, ‘don’t.’

Merlin turned his head. ‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t beat yourself up for something you didn’t do. You healed me when you barely even knew me.’

‘And if you hadn’t enchanted that lance of mine with the Griffin, I probably would be dead,’ added Lancelot.

‘How…?’

‘You murmur when you’re upset,’ Lancelot and Gwaine explained in unison.

Stunned, Merlin caught Gwaine’s fingers, nodding slowly. Their words hadn’t done much to alleviate the guilt, but he knew that they both meant it sincerely and was grateful that they didn’t hold it against him. After all, they had all been bound together by their loyalty to Arthur. Although, Gwaine would argue it was loyalty to Merlin first and Lancelot would hesitate before heartily agreeing, as they had done over many a drink in the tavern together.

Their evenings in the tavern had started as a way to kill time between training and patrol, when they knew that Merlin was busy with Arthur’s evening arrangements and Leon was busy with his bath and Elyan and Percival were busy doing whatever it was Elyan and Percival did. They had spoken of Gwen and Merlin in gushing sentences, before turning the praise onto one another and shyly kissing the other’s hands in the twilight of the tavern lamps. On missions they’d sleep beside one another, sit near to each other – quite often with Gwaine’s head resting on Lancelot’s legs as he played with his hair – and it was a wonder that no comment had ever been passed by the others. Particularly when their eyes had a habit of following Merlin’s manoeuvres on said missions. They were both together constantly, but there was always the sense that something was missing, even as they held each other in the secrecy of the night.

When Merlin’s legs began to quiver, Lancelot jerked his head in the direction of a large hollow to their left, sheltered by a sizeable group of trees. He had ideally wanted to cover more ground, but he understood how much Merlin had been through in the space of just several hours. As they reached the hollow and settled beneath a ledge, Lancelot murmured something about firewood and touched Merlin’s head and Gwaine’s arm, leaving before the warmth of his imprint had left their skin.

It all escalated when Merlin started to violently shiver. Not being prepared for a night in the forest and still drenched from his stream escapade, he was still in the clothes that he always wore and apparently still refused to don any other layers. Gwaine was also in the clothes he always wore but Gwaine was fine; he had his full armour on. Granted, it was marginally uncomfortable, but at least it was keeping him warm. Glancing over at Merlin, Gwaine wondered why he didn’t just cast a spell to keep himself warm. And maybe loosen Gwaine’s armour. Then again, perhaps the whole magic thing was like Merlin revealing that he had a hidden talent – which Gwaine supposed he did – and then being very shy about demonstrating it. Stubbornness was as much a part of Merlin as his neckerchief and if Merlin didn’t want to use magic then Gwaine was simply going to have to interfere. He unclasped his cloak and tossed it at Merlin’s head, where it slid down into the warlock’s lap.

‘You’ll get ill, Merlin, if you don’t put something dry on, and you know it. Don’t make me give you my socks.’

Merlin held his gaze for a moment, the effect ruined by his shaking shoulders, and then began to untie the knot in his neckerchief. ‘Your socks will be wet too, though. You walked through a stream.’

‘That is a very good point,’ grunted Gwaine, extracting his feet from his boots. ‘You know, maybe this is how we get Lancelot to actually get some sleep.’ Victoriously, a sock dangled from his hand. ‘Knock him out with one of these beauties.’

Merlin was laughing, then, and Gwaine wanted nothing more than to keep making him laugh for the whole night and the rest of his life if Merlin would let him. Merlin had shown him and Lancelot so much and there was a whole other lifetime of knowledge tucked away inside of him: of wonder and beauty and _magic_. He was so slight to have so much power. Sat there, slowly undressing – Gwaine made sure to look away, but the image of Merlin shirtless was already burned into his mind’s eye – there was barely anything to him. He worked so hard, like both Gwaine and Lancelot did, but Merlin didn’t get rounded meals or full rests. He had barely stopped to catch his breath for the whole time Gwaine had been a knight and Gwaine had a strong suspicion that Merlin hadn’t stopped to catch his breath since arriving in Camelot. To have all that power and to wear himself out with chores and menial tasks before needing to save Camelot’s skin…no wonder he looked constantly exhausted.

And he was still shivering.

At a rustling, Gwaine seized his sword and leapt in front of Merlin, lowering the weapon as Lancelot traipsed into the clearing with his arms full of branches. Stepping away from the warlock, Gwaine held out his hand towards Lancelot and marginally contracted his fingers twice. ‘Pass me your cloak.’

Dropping the firewood, Lancelot unclasped his cloak and slowly handed it to Gwaine, eyebrow raised. ‘Isn’t it a little early to be undressing one another?’

‘Oh, I’m already undressed,’ Merlin interjected. ‘Not because I want to have sex in the middle of the Darkling Woods,’ he hastily added, ‘but because Gwaine asked me to.’

Lancelot’s gaze swivelled back to his fellow knight. ‘Gwaine. The first rule of recruiting Merlin is what?’

‘Asking him if he wants to have sex and respecting his answer, I know, I know! I didn’t—’

‘And the second rule is?’

Gwaine rolled his eyes. ‘Be tactful with the timing, _yes I know_. But I didn’t ask him if he wanted to have sex—’

‘You mean you just assumed that he wanted to? When he was in a vulnerable state? Don’t even think about arguing that you’re not, Merlin, you look like death,’ Lancelot fiercely added, noticing that Merlin’s mouth had opened. ‘I thought a lot more of you than that, Gwaine.’

Gwaine, as much as he loved Lancelot, was very glad that he didn’t have a jug of mead in his hand that would be accidentally cracked by Lancelot’s skull. ‘I didn’t ask Merlin if he wanted to have sex because that wasn’t my motive for getting his clothes off for once. My motive was to get him dry and give him my cloak. Hence why I’ve asked for yours.’

‘Oh.’ Squatting down, Lancelot began to strike flint beside the pile of wood. ‘Why didn’t you just say?’

Merlin had to stifle another laugh at the wild gestures that formed Gwaine’s non-verbal response. Lancelot, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of the reaction happening behind him as, when he turned to check on them, Gwaine dropped his frenzied hands and scuttled away to bring Merlin closer to the fire. Aware that he had barely anything on beneath the two capes – Gwaine having finally supplied him with Lancelot's now that the confusion over undressing was dealt with – Merlin bashfully mumbled that he could carry himself there but might need Gwaine to take his clothes to the heat source. More than happy to oblige, Gwaine laid out the wet clothes in a circle around the fire as Merlin settled himself in a slight dip in the ground before being sandwiched in by the two knights.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Merlin reached for their hands again. 'Please tell me that the recruitment bit was a joke,' he finally said, desperately trying to hide his smile.

'No, no, it wasn't,' Gwaine replied, glancing mischievously towards Lancelot, who hummed in agreement. 'We've been trying to get Gwen as well.'

_Gwen._

There had been a feeling of terrible absence in Merlin's stomach when they had been walking, as if something was missing, and it had been. He had assumed that Gwen would stay by Arthur and had mourned her loss without even acknowledging it. As much as she loved Merlin, as much as they had both been through together, she wouldn't want to abandon Arthur without first experiencing drawn-out internal turmoil. Which was why Merlin hadn't put Gwen in the same position that he'd put Arthur in, why he'd run from Camelot without even saying goodbye to Gaius. Then again, he had never thought that Gwaine and Lancelot would be willing to abandon Arthur.

Merlin gently shook his head at his thoughts. It was no use going over what could have been; what was done was done and, as powerful as he was, he couldn't turn back time. He had Lancelot and Gwaine, which was already double the company he thought he'd have, and he wasn't going to fret about the hypothetical breakdown of something that had started only a couple of hours ago. The things they had been through together bound them to one another in a way that romance and lust alone never could and that would act as the wedding band tethering them to each other. It would be enough. They would be enough. He leaned against Lancelot's shoulder as Gwaine fell into his chest, the heat of his body filtering through Merlin's cloaks.

No plan was spoken of, no mention of Arthur or Gwen or the other knights they'd left behind; the three of them quietly sat together, satisfied in their own company, as fingers idly sketched constellations across limbs. The peace was interrupted by Gwaine's growling stomach and he jumped up to answer its call and attempt to find prey. Lancelot was studying Merlin's hand, his head imperceptibly moving against Merlin's as his gaze shifted, and Merlin stretched his neck to gently kiss him on the cheek.

'Tell me honestly,' Merlin whispered, 'why you came after me when you love Arthur and Gwen so much.'

'Because I love you as well, Merlin. And Gwaine, of course. But you needed us more than Arthur and Gwen.' Lancelot twisted so that they were facing each other, his hand cupping Merlin's cheek. 'I know what you're like. You can spend several hours in your own company quite happily, but a lifetime? You'd crumble.' He traced his cheekbones. 'And we couldn't have that.'

Leaning forward, Merlin rested his forehead on Lancelot's and quietly exhaled. 'We're going to miss them like hell.'

'I know.'

At several snapping twigs from the opposite direction to the one Gwaine disappeared in, Lancelot pulled away from Merlin to stand and draw his sword, assuming a defensive stance. Gwaine chose to noisily return from his failed hunt at that exact moment, shutting his mouth when Lancelot frantically gestured towards him, and stood on Merlin's other side with his weapon drawn. Merlin, meanwhile, had turned around just in case there was an attack from behind and rearranged his cloaks in as much of a dignified manner as was possible, withdrawing the knife he'd taken back from Lancelot during their first embrace.

Something heavy landed by Gwaine's feet and he stabbed at it without a second thought, frowning when no noise was made. Crouching down, he raised the object to eye level and poked at it, liberating a pair of thick socks that tumbled to the ground like drunk snakes. Lancelot gave a shrug when he was glanced at and pointed his sword as a figure dropped into the hollow.

'You three are _far_ too easy to track, it's honestly worrying.'

_'Gwen?'_

Gwen threw back her hood in affirmation, revealing a very large smile. 'I brought extra clothes, which I see you've already found—' She shot Gwaine a look, who gave a mere shrug in response. '—and some food to keep us going before we find somewhere to settle. Merlin, have you got a knife?'

Lancelot rounded on Merlin, who had since turned around, and wrestled the knife from his hands. ' _Give_ —Give that here, Merlin. You're one of the greatest warlocks to ever live, you don't need a _knife_.'

'Are you alone?' asked Gwaine, stepping towards Gwen.

'It's not a trap, if that's what you mean. I wanted to be with you all.'

'No, I didn't mean that, I meant that there could be bandits out here and you shouldn't be alone.'

Gwen pulled a sword from seemingly nowhere and raised an eyebrow. 'I think I can handle myself. If you want to get changed, I don't mind taking watch for a bit. My heart is still going from all that running.'

'Are you sure it's not being alone in the presence of three blooming men like us?' grinned Gwaine, shooting her a wink that she didn't validate with a response other than ducking her head with a smile.

Lancelot had since been victorious in his fight with Merlin, who was not happy with the arrangements. 'So I'm the only one without a weapon now?'

'Merlin, you have magic. You don't need a heavy weapon,' sighed Lancelot, moving towards Gwen. He felt safer in his armour, as visible as it made him, and adrenaline had been feeding him all night. He sat beside her as Gwaine and Merlin slowly began to change their clothes, gently touching her hand. 'Thank you for coming when I asked.'

She smiled softly at him. 'I know you would have done the same for me.' She glanced over her shoulder. 'You know, my father became very ill, very suddenly, several years ago. He healed overnight and Uther said it was magic. It got us in a lot of hot water, but it turned out alright in the end.' Gwen poked at the ground with her sword. 'Of course, he was executed shortly afterwards, but I had a little longer with him because of magic. Because of Merlin. And I will be forever grateful for that.'

'And Arthur?'

'Arthur will come round, I know he will. He's known Merlin for years; he won't forget that. And there's always the chance that he'll get jealous before he sees sense and will want us back soon enough anyway.' She took his hand. 'I couldn't leave all of you to fend for yourselves out here. You'd die in days and that would break my heart.'

'You do realise that both Lancelot and I have been wanderers before, right?' interrupted a freshly-changed Gwaine, throwing himself down beside Gwen. 'And Merlin has magic.'

Merlin, still wrapped up in the cloaks, settled himself on top of Gwaine. 'If I had a pardon for every time you lot have said I have magic—'

'Then you'd be back in Arthur's arms right now, yes, we know,' Gwaine grunted, shifting his position to balance Merlin's weight.

'No, we'd all be together in a warm bed in Camelot.' Merlin fixed his gaze on the three of them. 'I didn't realise just how much I needed you all until I suddenly did. Particularly because we would be freezing and starving without Gwen rescuing us all.'

They instinctively leaned into one another and Gwen whispered three words that made the recruitment complete: 'I love you.'

'In fairness, Merlin may have magic – yes I am well aware that I said it again, thank you Merlin – but the last time he was in the woods alone he almost got killed by Morgause. So, Gwen, we probably would die without you,' Lancelot concluded, withdrawing a blanket from the supplies and throwing one end to Gwaine.

'I told you that in confidence!' Merlin hotly said, angrily cocooning in the end of the blanket Gwaine gave to him to hold, sparking outcries from Gwen and Lancelot as their end slipped through their fingers.

Lancelot violently tugged back their end. 'Soon the entire court of Camelot will know that you have—That you're a sorcerer, Merlin— _I didn't say it, did I?_ So keeping things confidential is something that has gone out of the window, I think.'

Gwaine's hands, warm to the touch, found Merlin's skin, tracing scars he'd caught through snatched glances from memory. He'd sought permission with his eyes and Merlin had willingly given in, letting out a shudder at the contact. 'Are all these from times like that? When you almost died?'

'Most of them. Sometimes I just trip over something and fall down the stairs. It happens more than you'd think, particularly when carrying a pile of Arthur's laundry or armour. It's okay. I'm okay. But I've caused some myself, on other people.' Merlin looked towards Gwen. 'I knew – or at least strongly suspected – about Morgana. And I never said. Because I thought I could stop her at first, thought I could change the future...and then I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I was terrified that you wouldn't believe me and I never thought, not once, that she would want to harm you. Not in the way that she did.'

She took his hand. 'Thank you, Merlin. I'm not quite sure what I would have done with the information myself. It was a blow and it's taken a long time to recover, but I think I'm getting there. What's done is done, and we can't turn back time and rectify our mistakes. I must confess, though, that the reason I was so far behind you was because I was trying to process everything. You had concealed your magic, like Morgana had done, and had bolted. Of course it was to protect yourself and protect Arthur, but there was—' She faltered, continuing when Merlin gave her hand a small squeeze. 'There was a part of me, in the darkest corner of my mind, that worried you'd gone to join her. I'm sorry. Lancelot had asked me to gather supplies for you and leave them in the woods and had asked nothing else of me. And I was going to do just that but then I realised that it must have been you who healed my father all those years ago and I followed you. I would follow you all to the ends of the earth, because I couldn't bear to be without you. And I'm sorry for doubting you, Merlin.'

'It's okay.' Merlin held her hand to his face as Lancelot caught tears threatening to fall from her lashes. 'It's a perfectly natural response. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. You worry about me enough, I didn't want to add the fact that I'd be a dead man walking if I was discovered to that already heavy load. And I didn't want to put you in danger. It's okay.'

'If it makes any difference, Gwen, he didn't tell me either,' Gwaine cut in, shuffling closer to her and Lancelot. 'But we're all here now, I suppose. Except for Arthur, of course, but he's got his father to worry about.'

Nodding as a unit, they lapsed into silence once more. The exhaustion of the night's events gradually began to infiltrate their bodies like insects and, settling down into more comfortable positions, they curled up together beneath the blanket. Merlin, squashed between Gwaine and Gwen – he knew full well that he was going to get their names confused in the bleariness of the morning – allowed himself a small smile. He had gone from hopelessness to relief in the space of just a few short hours and he swore a new oath to protect them all. They knew about his magic, seemed to blindly accept it even, not asking one single question about it, and they were still here, nestled beside him. _That_ was true magic. He finally drifted off to the lullaby of four different breathing patterns.

*

Merlin rose with the dawn and the shouts of knights. Panicked, he threw off the blanket and stood over the others, hand raised. Gwen and Lancelot were the first to react, seizing their weapons and kicking Gwaine awake as the four of them clustered in a circle, weapons pointing in different directions. Merlin could feel the frantic rise and fall of Gwen's abdomen through the cloaks slipping down his shoulders and instinctively moved his other hand closer to her thigh, brushing against it as reassurance. Gwaine's foot was cemented firmly next to Merlin's, both of them without boots, and they knocked against one another in determination. Behind him, Lancelot's back was pushing into his own. When it was the four of them, they could take on anything.

Leon emerged from the trees, depositing his sword in the ground with his hands held out in surrender. 'As irritated as I am for your escapade interrupting my bath, we're not here to attack.'

'Especially because we know that this would not be an even match,' added Percival, mimicking Leon's manoeuvres, Elyan close behind.

'So why are you here?' asked Gwen, swallowing as she made eye contact with her brother.

Elyan offered her a smile. 'Because Arthur wants you back. We don't know exactly why; he just he said he wanted you all found and brought to him with none of you harmed. But it has to be okay, because if he wanted you arrested then he would have sent out some of the new recruits.'

Gwaine and Lancelot both quietly agreed that Elyan had a point.

Merlin nervously cleared his throat, feeling it close up. 'Do you...do you know?' Percival, Leon and Elyan simultaneously nodded. 'And you don't, you know, want to kill me?'

'Merlin, I owe my life to magic.' Leon gave him a small smile. 'And for us both to be a part of something so ancient and beautiful...as ridiculous as it sounds, I don't feel quite so alone now. I know it's not the same,' he quickly added.

'No, no, it is, in a way.' Merlin lowered his hand. 'I hadn't thought of it like that before.'

'And if my sister had got herself involved with the three of you, then I suppose I'm duty-bound to accept the people she loves,' Elyan said. 'It helps that I like them too.'

'And it's not like you've tried to kill any of us or take Camelot, despite having plenty of opportunities.' Percival shrugged. 'And, no offence, but I don't think you're the type of person to be concocting an endgame, Merlin.'

Slowly, Lancelot, Gwaine and Gwen sheathed their weapons, forming somewhat of a shield around Merlin as they advanced towards the knights cautiously. There would most certainly be some repercussions, but the image of a public execution was slowly dimming in their minds. Leon offered his hand to Lancelot and the latter took it, being pulled into a hug before being siphoned off to Percival and Elyan, who reciprocated the mannerism. Once the entire group had exchanged embraces and recovered weapons and supplies, they mounted horses that had been brought along, doubling up. Sat on a spare horse with Gwaine – Percival needing a whole horse to himself – Merlin rested his chin on the knight's shoulder and heavily exhaled. Everything was going to be alright.

If questioned, Leon told them, the story was that Merlin's mother had taken ill and Merlin and Gwen, both having some sort of medical experience, had been taken to the Ealdor by Gwaine and Lancelot. They had avoided taking horses to make themselves less visible and had been met at the border by Leon, Percival and Elyan. Merlin's mother was well and they had all returned to resume their lives in Camelot.

Receiving understanding from the fugitives, the rest of the ride had been passed with idle conversation that Merlin had not partaken in. He was busy watching the landscape fly by like streaks of paint, focusing on the comfort of Gwaine's waist encircled by his arms to prevent a spiralling panic that he couldn't quite manage to fight off. He kept his head bowed as they entered Camelot, avoiding all imagined gazes from those they passed, his fingers digging into Gwaine.

The knight took one hand off the reins to briefly clasp Merlin's fingers, turning his head to whisper in the warlock's ear. 'If it looks like something's about to go down, you distract everyone and then all four of us will run. Agreed?'

Merlin tightly nodded.

After dismounting, the four fugitives were careful not to knock against each other, assuming the air of nothing more than friends, pushing down the instinct to seize one another in a frenzy of panic. Being in a relationship altogether was nothing compared to being and harbouring a sorcerer, but they all knew Gwen was right; Arthur could become unintentionally jealous very easily. They left Elyan and Percival with the horses, following Leon to Arthur's chambers – not the throne room, so that had to be a promising sign – and taking a simultaneous breath before entering.

'We found them, my Lord,' Leon announced, dropping back.

'Thank you Leon, you may go.' Arthur was stood at the window, his back to the door, and waited until he heard it close before speaking again. 'So. You all took it into your heads to exile yourselves. My manservant, two of my best knights, and Guinevere.' He turned around, and the skin beneath his eyes was purple. 'I have been up for the entire night. What on earth possessed you all?'

'I didn't want to put you in a difficult position—'

'—couldn't leave him alone—'

'—they would have been useless without supplies—'

'—I just fancied a bit of an adventure, not many exciting things have been happening lately.' Gwaine was the last to finish in the chaos of their overlapping responses and, receiving four stares, shrugged. 'What? Merlin having magic is the most exciting thing to happen in months.'

'Keep your voice down!' Arthur implored. 'That is not being made public knowledge. My father may be unwell, but he is not that unwell. Whisper the word 'sorcery' in his ear and he will don his armour and ride out into the mouth of hell if that is what is required. And don't even think about doing that,' he added, fixing Gwaine with a hard stare. 'I know how you all feel about one another. I know how I feel about all of you. And I know I will do whatever it takes so that you stay here in Camelot. If you do want to leave, then I won't stop you, but nobody is being arrested or exiled.'

Merlin frowned. 'But I'm a sorcerer.'

'And?'

'I thought you'd be angrier.'

'I'm angry that you haven't been doing your job properly and have been cheating—'

'Actually I don't do that very often. The bathwater is an exception.'

Arthur waved his hand. 'Fine. I was angry that you lied to me, but I can understand why. I'm the son of the king who commandeered the Great Purge. I've killed some of your people myself as a boy. My father would say that my duty to Camelot is to kill you, but I say that my duty to Camelot – and myself – is to let you live.' Arthur rubbed his forehead. 'Besides, if I executed you then I'd have to execute the others for helping you and I couldn't—I couldn't watch four people I love die at my own hand. And I'd have to find a new manservant and let me tell you that is not an easy task.'

Gwen was the first to break the stunned silence, stepping forward. 'So, you're saying that this whole thing is going to stay a secret? We're going to go about our lives as if nothing happened and nothing has changed?'

'Yes. Merlin's magic will stay a secret, and the fact that all five of us are together will stay a secret.'

Lancelot, who had been nodding as he processed everything, suddenly froze. 'I'm sorry, could you please clarify that last bit?'

'The four of you are together,' Arthur said, 'and, if you'll have me, I want in.'

'It's not a club,' Gwaine interjected, glancing sideways at Merlin and Gwen, who looked as if they had both just been knocked out by a large chair. He and Lancelot had discussed Arthur, of course they had, he was the best swordsman among them and had the appearance of an ancient god, and they both knew how Gwen and Merlin had felt about him, but never for one second had thought that the prince felt the same. 'You can't just request membership. You have to swear to protect one another.'

'I know. And I will protect you all for the rest of my days. I swear it. You've all proven your loyalty to me, despite last night's events; loyalty to one another is loyalty to me. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving my loyalty to all of you.'

Gwen flew at Arthur, throwing her arms around his neck, and was closely followed by Merlin – still in shock – and Lancelot, with Gwaine being the final piece. They collapsed together on the floor, laughing in relief at the fact that they were okay, they were all okay, and nobody was going to die today. The sunlight streamed in through the window, filtering into a fragile rainbow as it passed through the bright glass, and Merlin knew that he would never be eclipsed by the daylight again. He wasn’t quite sure whom he was holding, or whose limbs were supporting him, but it didn’t matter in that moment. Because his whole life was contained within one single room, one warm embrace, and they could conquer even the stars together if they tried to.

He broke free from Lancelot's arm to ask a burning question. 'If you want to prove your loyalty, Arthur, can you teach me how to use a knife?'

The answer was unanimous. _'No!'_

**Author's Note:**

> So that was a lot longer than expected, thank you for sticking with it to the end! Thank you to @shut-up-merlin and @fluffypotatey on tumblr for putting knife!merlin on my dash, it was such a fun concept.


End file.
